


Spoils

by BeesKnees



Category: White Collar
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, Dubious Consent, Gunplay, M/M, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-21
Updated: 2012-09-21
Packaged: 2017-11-14 17:22:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/517680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeesKnees/pseuds/BeesKnees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was a reason that Keller put Neal in that crate instead of killing him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spoils

The top of the crate comes off and he’s blinded for a moment by the bright sunshine that beats down on him. Neal squints upward, able to see a silhouette floating somewhere above him. 

“Get out.”

That voice he knows: Keller’s familiar drawl. He hears a tap-tap against the side of the crate and can see the gun that Keller’s holding in one hand. Neal puts both hands on the sides of the crate and pushes himself up. He can hear waves in the distance. They’re in the middle of a villa somewhere — definitely not the United States — and the rest of the crates are nowhere to be seen.

“Looking a little overdressed, Caffrey,” Keller says, and he takes a seat, slouching down into a chair, the gun still balanced in one hand, aimed at Neal’s chest.   
Neal takes the hint. He had wondered when he had woken up, why Keller hadn’t just killed him — or at the very least, left him behind. There didn’t seem to be a lot practicality to folding him into one of the crates and bringing him along. But it seems as if Keller really has missed their old games. 

The line of Neal’s jaw is tight as his hands go up to his tie. He takes that off first, folding over the back of a chair. He then begins to shed article after article of already rumpled clothing, folding it neatly regardless. When he’s naked, he stands in the middle of the room and looks back over at Keller, who’s smirking in a self-satisfied way: He’s won. That’s what his expression is telling Neal.

“Come’re,” Keller says, blending the words together as he jerks the gun in a gesture that commands the same. 

Neal does because he has no choice. It’s not like he and Keller haven’t done this before; it’s not like this didn’t become part of their mission to one up the other. Neal has just never been so powerless in it before. He knows that, good as Peter is, it will take him at least weeks to figure out where Keller went with the treasure — and Neal doesn’t know if he can afford those weeks. 

He sinks down to his knees in front of Keller’s spread legs, and reaches forward to undo his pants. He’s already hard and Neal isn’t surprised to see that; he remembers that jittery feeling that came with pulling off a successful heist. The way nothing seemed to settle down, pulse too quick, skin too tight. 

“You remember this, Caffrey?” Keller breathes out, the barrel of the gun pressing against his temple. He can feel it brush through his hair, and he glances up at Keller for just a moment, his expression conveying his disdain before he lowers his mouth and begins to suck Keller. Keller lets out a loud groan almost right away, his head going back to rest on the chair. Neal still doesn’t dare try to do anything else. He knows that Keller’s hand on the gun is steady — and even though he doesn’t really think that Keller would kill him, he knows that he wouldn’t hesitate to shoot him. 

It makes him concentrate a bit harder at the task at hand, suck a little more roughly, and go down until he brushes up against the hair at the base of his cock. He runs his hand along Keller’s leg, palming at his knee before running his thumb over his still-clothed thigh. He knows how to get Keller off. He used to be quite good at this. He applies just the slightest hint of teeth, feels the barrel of the gun bob against his head for just a second before Keller lets out a guttural sound. His hand continues to move up until he can cup Keller’s balls. 

Keller begins to jerk his hips up, his motions somewhat erratic, but Neal takes it easily, ignoring the need to gag when the head of Keller’s cock brushes just too far back. He keeps expecting Keller to pull him away, to pull him back, and is surprised when he doesn’t — until he realizes that there’s really no need. With the FBI far behind them, they’ll have plenty of time. He comes abruptly, spilling himself down Neal’s throat. 

He glances down when he’s done, the smirk fixating itself on his mouth again. He reaches down with his other hand and wipes away a bit of the come curled at the corner of Neal’s mouth. 

He waves the gun again, a silent direction for Neal to get into the chair with him. He rises slowly, keeping his chin tilted up a little, because while he might not like this, he’s not merely giving in. He hates feeling so exposed, but sinks down into Keller’s lap anyway, ignoring the way that he’s also half hard.

“I think we need to have a talk Nealy-boy,” Keller murmurs, balances the gun underneath Neal’s chin with one hand. He wraps the other around Neal’s cock and begins to jerk him off so hard that it hurts. It pulls a strong sound out of the back of Neal’s throat as his hips buck up on impulse.

“I’ve got the treasure here,” Keller continues to murmur, right into his hair, so that Neal can feel his too-hot breath. “And we’ve got this whole island practically to ourself. Nothin’ but you, me, and the best artwork we could ever imagine.” 

His thumb rubs at the underside of the head of Neal’s cock, and he actually begins to touch Neal the way Neal likes to be touched, and Neal can’t help but start to give into the sensation, rocking up against Keller’s palm. 

“All we’ve got is a matter of trust,” Keller breathes. “If we can get past that, you and I can have a good thing here.” 

Neal comes without warning, spine arching forward, biting into his lower lip. Keller presses the gun harder against his chin, making him look up. 

“What do you think?” Keller smirks, and all Neal can do is stare at him.


End file.
